


All My Birthdays & Christmases Have Come At Once

by theprincessed



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Bottom Harry, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry surprises Louis for his birthday. Louis makes it even more special. (Set just after X Factor 2010 finished)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All My Birthdays & Christmases Have Come At Once

**Author's Note:**

> Lazy bones, lazy bones. Here's another throwback.
> 
> Originally posted 24 December 2010. Written to celebrate Louis' 19th birthday. Yep. That's how I roll.

Insomnia is a bitch.

Louis turns over in bed and sighs, desperately telling his mind to shut the hell up and let him go to sleep. 

He’s been back at home for a few days and there’s no denying that it’s been refreshingly lovely. His mum couldn’t do enough for him, which was slightly weird because he’s been ironing his own clothes for nearly three years. He decides to enter a singing competition and bam, it’s like he’s regressed. He’s not complaining though, especially when his sister narrows her eyes at him, like she knows he could stop their mother any time. He just winks at her, sauntering up to his room with a pile of pressed clothes in his arms.

Whilst catching up with the family gossip is great and everything, he can’t help feeling a little empty. He misses the _X Factor_ house, the good memories and friends he made. Most of all, he misses waking up and seeing four other guys surrounding him. He’d got used to being one of five boys, instead of a minority in his own home. It probably explained why he went a bit crazy, high on life being different everyday and having a new, appreciative audience.

He remembers Niall’s laugh, his flailing around like Louis is the funniest person he’s ever met. His chats with Liam, the way Liam blinked at him in surprise the first time he struck up a conversation that didn’t involve a prank or a silly voice. He’d been telling him about his sisters, trying to get Liam to open up because he knew siblings were something they had in common and soon they were comparing notes and bonding over not having a brother. His fighting with Zayn, pissing him off just to see what he would say or do, and the play-fights when it was all for fun, dropping his head in Zayn’s lap and demanding he stroke his hair whilst they watched TV because he was good at it.

And Harry. The youngest but, in Louis’ opinion, the best. His best friend in the house and someone who was hard to forget once you knew him. Louis had gone into the competition, wondering how far he could get, and ended up in a thrown together boyband with Harry and things had soon got a lot more complicated from there. 

In Marbella, Louis had the misfortune of meeting a sea urchin and the future seemed to be sliding from their grasp. Luckily with help from a good dose of medication later, they were through to the live shows and Harry still looked a little wobbly from the rollercoaster of emotion. With a slight limp in his step, Louis dragged him off for a talk. Next thing he knew, he was cuddling Harry in his arms and something sparked between them. Harry held onto him tighter, like he was afraid Louis would let go. Louis had meant it as a protective gesture, leaning back and tilting Harry’s chin up towards him so he could smile and tell him that they should be proud of themselves and _happy_.

It didn’t exactly go to plan.

Louis’ always had a tendency to be impulsive, so when Harry looked at him, with those eyes and those curls against his fingers, he couldn’t help it. He kissed him, thinking he was going to be shoved into the fountain they were perched on, and not expecting Harry to practically _melt_ into him, following Louis like it was the most natural and obvious step in the world. When they’d parted, Louis had been prepared for Harry to freak out, but he simply laughed and tucked his head underneath Louis’ chin, sitting with him until the others found them and made it another group hug.

Now, Louis feels a mix of fondness and frustration. He’s pulling the duvet over his head when he hears the engine of a car. The headlights play across the ceiling for a second, but he doesn’t hear the car move off in the distance. If anything, it sounds like it stops on his street. Anybody else would think it was a neighbour, but Louis can’t sleep and he’s suddenly missing his boys, so he looks for the cure to both in an adventure.

Slipping into the jogging bottoms and t-shirt that were on the floor and easiest within reach, he quietly opens his bedroom door and pops his head out. Satisfied that no one else will be waking up to follow and scare him senseless by accident, he tiptoes downstairs. He tries to see through the frosted glass of the front door, increasingly curious. He hears the slam of a car door and sees vague shapes and muted colours, nothing he can decipher without opening the door.

Suddenly, it’s as if the mystery person (at least he hopes it’s a person) spots his not so subtle spying and starts coming towards his house. Louis stumbles backwards and just about manages to keep in a stupidly high-pitched scream when the figure blocks the glass and tries to peer in. Louis acts sensible for once and runs back upstairs as fast but as silently as he can, diving beneath his warm duvet with his clothes still on. 

He’s breathless from the unexpected and laughing at himself, knowing that’ll teach him, even if it’s just a lost passerby. He checks the alarm clock beside him, blinking at neon numbers, when another noise makes him sit up. _Oh God, we’re being burgled_ , is the first thought that comes to mind until something hits his window. It’s small, so does no damage, simply pitter-pattering against the windowpane then falling. 

He curses his curiosity, but his mouth drops open when he pulls the curtain aside and looks down. Harry’s standing below and he’s just thrown another handful of what looks like stones from the ground. Instead of being embarrassed, Harry grins, his face yellow from the streetlight across the road.

To stop him causing complete vandalism and, more importantly, waking his parents up in the middle of the night, Louis tiptoes downstairs again. Harry’s still grinning when he sees that Louis has come to meet him and he walks towards the front door. Bizarrely, he’s dressed in his animal hat, a trench coat and trainers, but his legs are bare.

“Was that you?!” Louis exclaims in a hushed whisper, instead of addressing the strange outfit.

“At the door? Yeah!” Harry replies, enthusiastic and clearly pleased to see Louis again, “Who did you think it was? A burglar?”

“What the _hell_ are you _doing_ here?” he demands, avoiding the fact that Harry was right. “You live in Cheshire!”

His face blanks. “I lost my memory;” he says deadpan, “except for the part where I knew you lived in Doncaster, so I thought ‘I know, Louis will help me’.”

Louis steps out of his house, even though he’s barefoot. He smacks Harry round the head for being cheeky then immediately pulls him into a hug, happy to feel his body next to his now that he’s here. He wants to hug him for a while, but Harry’s coat is cold to the touch.

“You’re freezing,” he says, realising that Harry himself is as well when Louis holds his face in his hands and sees the pink tint to his nose and cheeks.

“The heater in Mum’s car broke. That was _not_ a fun journey.”

Louis’ eyes widen, more awake than ever, “Your mum was here? You made her drive over two hours so you could see me at quarter to three in the morning?”

“No!” Harry punches him gently in the stomach, “Well, not exactly. Mum’s got a friend who doesn’t live too far from here and we were supposed to drive up tomorrow, but...uh...”

He looks anxious, as if he’s about to tell Louis something new. Boys are not great at talking about their feelings at the best of times, so Louis watches on silently as Harry sits on his doorstep, looking at the ground.

“She said she couldn’t stand to see me look miserable anymore.” he confesses quietly, folding his arms across his body to keep any heat in. He tries to blow his hair out from his eyes and glances at Louis, continuing, “When my dad left, we got even closer. She hates thinking I’m sad, so she agrees to stupid stuff like this. Ugh, that’s really selfish, isn’t it?”

Louis shakes his head and yanks him up by the lapels of his coat, “She could’ve said no. Listen, if she can cope with five boys in her house before a major TV show, she can cope with one of you.”

Louis kisses him gently, stroking his back. His hands are coming round to the pockets on the coat when Harry grabs his wrist and jerks away.

“What’ve you got?”

“Your birthday present.” he says, re-tying the belt on his coat as Louis tries not to stare at his legs.

“But that’s not for a few days yet. Am I getting a preview?”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “You really think I could convince my mum to bring me here _on Christmas Eve_? It’s a present, not a miracle.”

“Alright,” he laughs, hands out to placate him. Louis is about to sneakily invite him in when he hears movement inside the house, “Shit! You have to go!”

“What?! But I’ve only just got here!”

Harry resists Louis trying to push him away from the door. Louis sighs, gesturing to Harry’s outfit, “I don’t know what this is about, but I can’t let anyone in there see you like this. _I’ll_ get the blame.”

He nods in agreement and is halfway to relenting and formulating a plan as to how to get them out of this mess when he hears another male voice.

“Louis? Is that you?”

Harry bites his lip as Louis’ father emerges from the darkness of the house and looks at them both. His expression is unreadable but he hasn’t clocked what Harry’s inexplicably wearing yet.

Louis nervously flicks his hair away from his face. “Ah. Dad. Hi.”

His dad looks past Louis and sees Harry, loitering awkwardly in the background with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

“Harry, isn’t it?” Harry nods wordlessly, suddenly losing the ability to speak. “I’ve got no idea what’s going on, but it’s freezing out here so I think you’d better come in.”

It looks as though Louis might protest for a second, squirming at the thought of more questions, but his father gives him a searching look and he simply ushers Harry inside with a hand to the small of his back.

In the hallway, Louis’ father turns to his son and puts a hand on his shoulder, “I trust you. There should be extra blankets on top of your wardrobe. Don’t stay up too late. Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry’s fairly certain he makes a noise of some kind, but his eyes never leave Louis’ father until he’s sure that he’s tiredly trudged upstairs and left them to it. Harry breathes out heavily, not realising that he’d been doing a good job of holding his breath. Louis yawns next to him.

“I thought I had insomnia,” he tells him with a sleepy smile, “You’ve tired me out. Come on, let’s just go to bed. I’ll deal with this,” he gestures to Harry’s body again, “in the morning.”

\---

When Louis wakes up the following morning, he’s momentarily forgotten the events of last night. He does what comes naturally to him, turning over and blindly reaching down the side of the bed to find water. It’s stashed in a fabric softener bottle for a giggle that he never bothered to end, but instead of finding that his hand lands upon something more solid and warm.

“Why are you feeling me up this early in the morning?” questions a sleepy voice and Louis’ eyes pop open to see Harry grinning at him. “Not that I’m bothered.”

Seeing him laid out on the floor in a hastily made ‘bed’ for the night makes Louis remember – Harry turning up on his doorstep in the early hours, getting caught and invited in by his dad, Harry’s reason for his visit, his strange outfit...

Louis gulps some water (trying not to choke as Harry’s gaze widens) then tilts his head in thought, “Why are you still wearing that coat?”

He looks down at himself, fingering a lapel, and then back to Louis, “Ah, that. You see — the thing is — funny story - ” He’s trying to laugh about it, so Louis thinks he’s going to get to hear a good anecdote, something he might have to use for friendly blackmail years later. He sits cross legged on his bed and smiles. “I’ve got nothing else on,” he blurts out at last, buckling under the pressure.

Louis frowns, “Eh?”

“This was the surprise,” Harry sighs, sitting up and unbuttoning his coat a little to show Louis a naked shoulder, “ _I’m_ your birthday present.”

“Oh my god!” Louis covers his face with his hands, too shocked to howl with laughter, “You’re — you’re _insane_!”

“I know,” Harry grumbles, frowning, “I’m going out with you, aren’t I?”

Louis resists the urge to clutch at his heart and coo over how utterly cute he sounds, feeling like he’s back in school. He might as well be. He and Harry are unlikely to go on any kind of normal ‘date’ any time soon.

“Well, I can’t ‘unwrap’ you here,” he says with a cheeky glint in his eyes as Harry fights to stop his crestfallen expression from showing, “but I think I’ve got an idea.”

Louis grabs his wallet and his phone.

\---

Half an hour later, Louis is trying to smuggle Harry out the front door without any of his family realising. They make it out of Louis’ room and down the stairs without a problem, only understanding when they hear a jumble of voices in the kitchen. Louis turns to Harry, biting back his giggles as he uses some vague hand gestures. If it’s even possible, Harry looks more ridiculous now, in the light of morning and dressed in Louis’ red sweatpants underneath the trench coat. He doesn’t remember giving him one of his striped t-shirts but he’s definitely wearing it. All he needs is to replace his animal hat with a trilby and he’ll look like a homeless private detective.

Harry frowns in confusion, failing to grasp what Louis means just by watching his flailing hands. Impatient, Louis shoves him down the last of the stairs but Harry trips and crashes into the front door, causing a bigger noise than if they’d acted normal in the first place.

“Louis? What have you done now?”

On hearing his mother’s voice from the kitchen, Louis turns to see Harry with eyes big and pleading, biting his lip guiltily. Louis kisses his forehead then opens the front door, pushing him outside. At least he’s fully clothed this time.

“Wait there,” he tells him, grinning when he sees Harry’s indignant expression as he shuts the door in his face.

“Why do you always think it’s me that’s to blame?” he asks his mother as he strolls into the kitchen, trying for nonchalant with his hands in his pockets.

“Because it’s always your fault,” his sister mumbles into her cereal.

He badly wants to mess up her hair, but their mother is dealing with the twins at the table so he’d definitely get caught. Instead, he points to his own eyes and then to hers, miming that he’s watching her. He knows what will annoy her enough, so he sidles up to his mother with his best innocent face on.

“Mum,” he starts slowly and she looks up at him, most likely knowing that he wants something already, “can I borrow your car?”

“What for?”

“I need to go into town,” he pauses then adds hastily, “y’know, it’s Christmas in a few days. I need a few things.”

She stares at Louis then glances at her husband who’s by the sink, making tea. His back is to everyone but he’s obviously been listening because he says, “Take the bus.”

Louis smiles at his mum, questioning, trying to persuade her to overrule his dad. With a sigh, she reaches for her keys by the cork noticeboard and presses them into his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees his dad shake his head, but he doesn’t start any cross words, so he takes them and runs.

Well, tries to. 

“Louis? Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He turns around in the kitchen doorway. His mother taps her cheek. He runs over and kisses her, whilst the twins clamber for the attention they’ve been deprived of for precious seconds.

“Thanks.” he beams at her, squirming when she wipes her lipstick from his cheek with a thumb.

He dangles the keys in front of his sister’s face as he passes. She puts her spoon down and stares at her parents, aghast. “He gets suspended from school and still has the keys to your car?!”

“I’m not in school anymore, brainbox,” Louis interrupts, messing up her hair anyway, “besides; it’s not _my_ fault that they didn’t have a sense of humour.”

“Louis — ” his mother warns.

He raises his hands, “Going!”

He shuts the front door a little harder than intended when he hears his dad mention Harry. They know something’s going on, it’s just never been actively discussed and, like any boy, the longer he can derail _that_ talk, the better. It’s not like he needs it.

Harry is still exactly where he left him, although he stumbles backwards slightly when Louis appears, like he’s been eavesdropping.

“You got suspended from school?”

“No.” Louis immediately goes on the defensive, “Well, maybe. How d’you know about that?”

Harry looks guilty again. It’s cute on him. “You chucked me out of your house like I was some dirty little secret. I decided to listen in on what you’d so cruelly shunned me for.”

Louis laughs, putting his arm around his shoulders and leading them towards his mum’s car, “Breakfast time with the Tomlinsons and my little sister bitching at me because I’m older and cooler and not such a goody two shoes — ”

“Evidently.” Harry mutters dryly, smirking.

Louis blinks out of his boasting and throws the car keys up in the air. He catches them with a grin. “But never mind that. Let’s go.”

“Uh. Where?”

He removes his wallet from his back pocket, taking out the one credit card he’s allowed to own. His eyebrows move suggestively. “A hotel. Although don’t get too excited. I’m not made of money.”

Even if it’s a Premier Inn, it’s the best idea Harry’s heard for days.

 

It might be a minor miracle that they get into Doncaster without damaging Louis’ mum’s car or themselves and indeed find a room in a cheap hotel that doesn’t reject Louis’ credit card. There’s no reason for it to happen, but Louis still calms himself down from a heart attack all the same and Harry looks relieved that he was accepted too because it’s not like he’s blending in right now.

When they get to the room, the enormity of their plan sets into their minds. Louis basically facilitated Harry’s plan to seduce him for his birthday. It’s probably his Christmas present too. The boy’s sixteen; he can’t afford grand gestures of affection.

Before Louis can ask if this – driving to the city, going to a hotel, buying a room for the night to probably have sex in, _everything_ – is alright, Harry leaves his side and leaps onto the double bed that Louis blithely stretched for. He watches him kick off his trainers and then, when he’s satisfied that Harry’s only reaching for the TV remote and not about to raid the mini bar, locks himself in the bathroom.

From his position against the door he can see his reflection in the decent size mirror, even if the awful strip lighting makes him look washed out. He cautiously approaches, scrutinising for unsightly spots and fiddling with his hair. It’s when he’s straightening his outfit that he pauses and frowns. 

It’s not like this is the first time he and Harry have slept together. Admittedly, that was in the _X Factor_ house in the latter stages of the competition when they could find a vacated room and have some alone time. It was still fairly rubbish, their gazes constantly eyeing the door despite it being locked and trying to keep noise at a minimum.

And anyway, he’s dressed for comfort, not dolled up. He shrugs off his dark blue cardigan so he’s just in his grey cowl neck top then immediately puts the cardigan back on again. He grins; Harry can have something to do by undressing him. Besides, this is _his_ birthday present. He’s going to lie back and think of England...until he can’t take it anymore and he _has to_ fuck Harry through the mattress, of course.

Suddenly feeling his renowned confidence returning, Louis wrenches open the bathroom door with conviction and steps out. He stops in his tracks and his eyes widen at the sight in front of him. Harry’s still on the bed, on his side with his head propped up by an elbow. Nothing out of the ordinary there and neither is the grin that lights up his face...except that he’s completely naked.

Well, scratch that. He’s almost naked. Louis can’t help it and his gaze lowers automatically to where _a red ribbon is tied around Harry’s cock_. 

“What the — ” he splutters, uncharacteristically lost for words.

Harry knows this and grins even wider, “Hi.”

Before he can talk himself out of it, Louis lunges towards the mini bar. It’s becoming more known that he doesn’t talk himself out of much at the best of times but alcohol is always good for shock. Or is it tea? Regardless, he screws the cap off some vodka and downs the whole bottle, wincing as the sharp taste pours down his throat. He’s been thrown off his own agenda with one simple but effective move from Harry Styles. That should probably become his catchphrase. 

At last something to say comes to mind and he turns around. “Have you had that tied around your cock the whole time? _Last night, when you showed up on my doorstep_?”

He bites his lip, “Er, yeah. Couldn’t really tell you about that. Would’ve ruined the surprise.”

“Well,” Louis nods and can’t help a smile, “I’m definitely surprised.”

Harry shifts onto his back, crossing his ankles and placing his hands behind his head. As young as he is, he seems to be in a precocious mood and turning Louis on without trying to do anything like actually wooing him. He’s naked, he’s hot and that’s all that matters to him and to Louis’ cock. 

Harry nods towards him as he stands at the foot of the bed, “I’ve got a million clichés from the internet that I could say right now, but screw it. Just get naked, Tomlinson.”

Louis laughs as he slips his cardigan off, managing to throw it in the direction of the chair in the corner rather than straight on the floor. He’s feeling a little exposed under Harry’s stare but shakes away the thought because it’s _Harry_ and he’s tied his cock with a ridiculous red bow. That about trumps any embarrassment _ever_.

His stomach does flip deliciously though when Harry gets impatient and kneels near the edge so he’s able to reach him. Louis gets his secret wish and raises his arms above his head as Harry pulls his top off and licks the hollow of his throat. He leans into the touch of his mouth, putting a hand to Harry’s shoulder and leaving it there as he unzips Louis’ jeans. He stands in between Harry’s bare thighs and is just about to push him backwards when an annoying thought makes him groan. Even though he thinks he should probably know the difference, he is still a little surprised when Harry pauses and looks up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have,” he reaches into his back pocket for the wallet still there, “a condom but nothing else. Didn’t think, sorry.”

He moves to slump away dejectedly but is caught by his belt loops and a pleasurable shiver races up his spine. Who knew he’d like ‘em bossy. Harry takes the condom from Louis’ wallet and pretends to peek at the contents before he tosses it onto the nearest flat surface.

“Don’t worry — ”

“I can’t let you — ” Louis interjects, but Harry shushes him with a fingertip squashed against his lips.

He keeps that finger in the air even as he leans back to grab something from the floor at the side of the bed. He rifles through the pockets of his trench coat then holds up a familiar tube. Louis feels that stab of arousal again at seeing that the tube is half empty.

Screw thinking of England, this is apparently the point at which he can’t take anymore foreplay. 

He tackles Harry flat onto his back and kisses him gratefully. They roll around for a while, messing around like usual, until the covers are falling off the end of the bed and the sheets are rumpled. Harry’s locking his legs around Louis’ waist and giggling when Louis leans forward and pins his arms above his head. To retaliate, he lowers his hands towards Louis’ jeans and the waistband of his underwear. He pushes them down a little, demonstrating his intentions, before grabbing Louis’ hand and pressing it to his erection.

“Hmm,” Louis mutters thoughtfully, looking down, “I think it’s time I unwrapped you properly.”

Instead of the clever retort he was expecting, he feels Harry’s hands move further inside his boxers. He gasps as their bodies meet and suddenly agrees that it’s probably a good idea now to take all his clothes off. He returns in a flash, kissing Harry deeper until he’s breathless and pliant in his arms.

“Be right back,” Louis grins, making a path of kisses along the length of Harry’s body until he gets to his cock.

He spots the end of the ribbon and clamps his mouth around the silky material, pulling the knot out ever so slowly with his teeth. He hears Harry whimper as the ribbon falls across his thighs, the brilliant red colour an amazing contrast to his skin. Unable to resist, Louis curls his fingers around Harry’s cock and licks up one side and down the other. Harry makes a surprised noise, kicking Louis in the collarbone so that he flinches away. Immediately shuffling down the bed, he straddles Louis’ lap, kissing him quickly and grinding down in apology.

“Your birthday,” he pants, “Not mine.”

Louis shoves him backwards and crawls over him, grabbing hold of his cock again. “What if I want to blow you?”

Harry leans up and licks his ear, whispering harshly, “What if I want you to fuck me?”

Louis doesn’t need to be told twice.

He quickly but liberally coats a couple of his fingers with lube, biting his lip hard when Harry lies down and lets his knees fall open. Placing his dry hand next to Harry’s head to support his weight, Louis catches his lips in a deeper kiss and sinks two fingers into his body. Harry arches up against him, chests touching, and whimpers into Louis’ mouth as he prods and strokes to ease the way. 

When he’s three fingers in and Harry bears down to meet them, Louis withdraws and pats his hip, “Turn over.”

He obeys without question and Louis drops a kiss to his shoulder as he shifts behind him, readying. He pulls Harry towards him by his waist to position them both correctly, but he hears the hitch in his breathing as his cock brushes near him, an accidental promise of what’s to come. He slides the condom on and thumbs at Harry’s hip for a moment, watching him pull a fistful of the sheets and the ribbon trapped underneath his knee.

Louis guides himself in as smoothly as he can, his chest pressing to Harry’s spine as he leans over. He feels him tremble and moan shakily. Worried that he’s not going to last holding himself up, Louis keeps one hand curled firmly around Harry's hip and the other up against his stomach. He leans his forehead on Harry’s warm shoulder and concentrates on moving back and forth, something so simple but clouding his head with every cloying push and pull. 

“God, you’re so...” he trails off, his hand dropping to palm Harry’s erection.

He thinks that’s what makes Harry’s head snap up and colourfully swear, so doesn’t take any notice until Harry repeats urgently, “Louis. _Louis, look up_.”

 _What?_ his brain questions but the word dies on his tongue the second he hears Harry groan louder and raises his gaze. His own reflection - _their_ reflection – is staring straight back at him from the wide mirror on the wall in front of them, something that they hadn’t been paying attention to.

“Fuck, that’s crazy,” he gasps, blinking his sweaty fringe out from this eyes and barely recognising himself.

Down on his elbows, Harry actually chuckles, “It’s fucking _insane_.”

Louis nods and bites his lip, suddenly fascinated even though he knows its logic that if he moves, the Louis in the mirror will move too. He runs a hand through Harry’s curls and listens to the boy practically purr underneath him.

“You look...” he starts, grasping for the best word as he kisses Harry’s cheek, “fuck, you look _amazing_.”

Harry moans as Louis fits his hand across the nape of his neck. He slides his fingers higher as his breathing quickens and he strokes his dick in time with Louis’ thrusts, matching the rolling rhythm. It all makes sense as Louis spots him sneaking glances at the mirror again, shining pupils blown wide.

Louis pushes in as deep as he can go and pulls Harry’s hair at the same time, yanking his head back. Harry shouts, stunned, and instantly comes all over his fist. Louis only lasts a few more precious seconds himself but it is glorious, listening to Harry pant as he comes back down to earth and watching his flushed, happy face in the mirror.

“Mm,” he murmurs appreciatively when he can speak again, “Happy early Birthday to me.”

They get the awkward business of pulling apart out of the way first and Louis laughs as Harry tries to flinch away from a sticky fingertip swiping across his face. Whilst Harry collapses onto his stomach, Louis decides to leave him alone for a moment and goes to the bathroom. When he returns, he leans in the doorway. Harry, with his head pillowed on his arms, smiles because even with his eyes closed he knows he’s being watched.

“You just gonna stand there all night or...?”

Louis shrugs. “I’ll do what I like. You’re _my_ birthday present.”

Harry goes quiet and Louis is almost disappointed at the thought that he’s worn him out. _Almost_.

He lets his eyes roam over him, now he’s not being a cheeky little shit or a huge flirt or a terrible exhibitionist. He thinks of Harry’s face as perfect anyway (even if he’s a bit biased), but it’s possibly just that little bit more perfect with his damp hair falling over his closed eyes. Usually he’d vigorously shake his head and swish a hand through his curls to push them away, but if he’s not asleep he’s definitely too comfortable not to be moving. Most of him disappears from Louis’ line of vision after the slope of his shoulders, but Louis knows the rest of him all too well, from the dip of his lower back to the cute fleshy space just above the jut of his hipbones. So he’s not getting too sentimental or too horny too quickly, he thinks of Harry’s feet – crossed on the pillow right now – and wrinkles his nose in fond disgust. 

Barefoot, he is quiet as he pads over to the bed but then ruins it as he sits next to Harry’s head and pokes him hard in the armpit.

“Oi! No sleeping. I’ve got plans for you yet, my little love slave,”

Harry snorts ungracefully as he leans up on one elbow and twists his body to the side to regard Louis properly, “Don’t you mean sex slave?”

Louis groans like he’s been defeated, “Ugh, you’re just too cute for words.”

He laughs at Harry’s unimpressed scowl, kissing his drawn together eyebrows and then his pinched mouth. When he barely responds, Louis grins in amusement and leans back on his hands. Like a moth to a flame or a curious boy to a dick, he doesn’t miss Harry eyeing his crotch.

Louis gestures between them both, “You and me have another date with that,” he jabs a finger in the direction of the mirror, “fucking sexy mirror when you’ve got your energy back.”

He is pounced on before he’s barely finished speaking, landing backwards on the bed with Harry sitting proudly astride him, but Louis' face contorts irritably when he belatedly realises something.

“You’ve shoved me in the damp patch, haven’t you?” he grumbles rhetorically, but Harry nods anyway with this shit-eating grin on his too cute face.

Louis tries to slap him as punishment but his wrists get caught and Harry’s stronger than he might look. He struggles valiantly until Harry’s mouth is within devious breathing distance.

“Happy early Birthday, Louis.” he smiles triumphantly, dimples appearing and his green eyes sparkling impishly. 

Louis sighs, knowing he’s got to forgive him. 

It’s nearly Christmas, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies x
> 
> Find me on Tumblr for a chat if you like at [theprincessed](http://www.theprincessed.tumblr.com). :)


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